Pieces of An Echo
by LavenderAndTime
Summary: Clara Oswald is an impossible woman, and the Tenth Doctor likes impossible... Various Allonswin one-shots about Ten and Clara's travels, and everything in between. More info inside. (Five: The Doctor watches over Angie and Artie for the evening. Things go wrong.)
1. 1) No Questions Asked, Period

**AN: Albeit being part of a series, these can easily be read as one-shots.**

**For anyone who'd like to know, however, these are Allonswin one-shots set in my "Echoes Of Time" fic-verse, where the Tenth Doctor is the first one to discover Clara Oswald due to a change in the timeline. There's more information on my profile, if anyone's interested. These are moments between them that didn't fit into the main story, but begged to be told.**

**The one-shots are in no particular order, which means that they'll have the Doctor and Clara at different points in their relationship. I'll list any specific warnings or info for each of them. Some are funny, some might be ridiculously fluffy... Some may have feels. We'll see. :D**

* * *

_Genre: Humor_

_Rating: Light T (for suggestiveness)_

_No Questions Asked, Period._

The Doctor gazed across the console at his friend, who seemed considerably more tepid than usual. She hadn't talked for minutes, but usually he couldn't get a word in edgewise. "You feeling okay?" he asked, genuinely worried. "You look pale."

Clara crossed her arms snugly around her torso and leaned back against the coral pillar. "I'm fine." Her brooding expression abandoned her empty claim.

"Doesn't seem so," he chortled, swiping out his sonic screwdriver. He lifted it up to her neck and began scanning her, his face bright with a youthful enthusiasm, but hers looking more and more as if she were considering biting as an appropriate social convention. "Your body temperature's up just a fraction, hormone levels high, your energy low... Tell me, are you experiencing any sort of abdominal pain, or a short, high-pitched droning noise right at the back of the-"

Clara interrupted him swiftly, with her lips contorted into a salty grimace.

"Doctor, get that thing out of my face, or so help me, I will CRAM it where it's never been crammed before!"

Needless to say, he backed off, not wanting to take the trouble to remember where he hadn't hid the sonic device... yet. "Well. All right," he said, hands raised in defense. "Somebody's in a huff today. Don't know what I did to deserve it, much less what caused it."

She started at him with such an intensity he momentarily considered if she were capable of burning out his retinas. "You are _kidding_ me," she spat.

"What?" he squeaked, eyes wide. "Seriously, what'd I do?"

Clara threw out her arms in mock despair.

"You've picked up human females as companions for how long," she attempted to explain, "and this whole time you've _never_ noticed? Our monthlies?"

The Doctor's feet were firmly planted to the ground, his jaw was dropped open, and his face was blank. Ultimately giving up, Clara growled, and did an about-face.

"Impossible," she muttered, while stamping off to the secondary corridors. "He's mastered everything in the universe except women."

Silence fell upon the console room; the only noise remaining being the low hum of the TARDIS's engines. The Doctor _still_ stood there speechless. He looked around sheepishly, ran his fingers through his hair, and when he couldn't think anymore on the subject, returned to piloting the time ship.

"I still don't know what I did wrong," he murmured quietly.


	2. 2) Key For Her

_Genre: Friendship_

_Rating: K_

_Key For Her_

Certain moments in time, Clara found, were simply made to be good. It was the first week in May, the sun was shining, and it was an 'adventure day', as she liked to call them. She'd quickly decided these to be her favorite days.

The Doctor had arrived early that morning to whisk her away in his time machine. He took her to this ocean planet- somewhere on the edge of the Milky Way, he had said- where all the sea life was bioluminescent. The water there would have been a deep indigo in normal conditions, but the fish and the coral structures lit up the ocean bottom like a million beacons. It was as bright as daylight. She was positive she'd never seen anything so beautiful.

After having fun snorkeling on the ocean floor for a few hours, the two had returned to the TARDIS. Her hair was soaking wet- and dripping all over her change of clothes- but it was totally worth it.

With a triumphant "ha", the Doctor flicked on the parking brake, and the entire ship lurched to a stop. Clara tightened her grip on the metal rail that circled around a portion of the console, still not completely used to his messy driving skills. After all, the last time he had parked, she had almost fallen on her butt.

"Thanks for the lift," she laughed, and smoothed out her wet hair. She grabbed her purse from the floor and slung it over her shoulder.

As she began walking backwards to the door, she noticed the smile that curved over his lips. It was a lonely smile. Perhaps he were trying to mask it, but she could tell because of his sad eyes. At that moment, Clara thought back to what the Doctor had told her last week... that he had traveling companions before. Once, when searching for a bathroom in the vast ship, she had seen some bedrooms lining the halls. She wondered if they stayed with him, in between the adventures.

She began to push through the doors, when she heard his voice call out for her.

"Clara?"

"Yeah?" Clara turned around. The Doctor stood behind her, holding a small silver key in his palm.

"This is yours," he said. "Frequent flyer's privilege."

She paused, her mind whirring. "Is this a key to your ship?"

"Oh, yes!" he grinned wildly.

"But... you always pick me up," Clara insisted. "I don't need it."

"Then take it as a symbol," he replied swiftly. "Thing is, Clara Oswald-" he gently took her hand, placed the key in her palm, and closed it around it- "I've been alone for _far_ too long. I'm glad I met you. And I'd like you to continue being a part of my- Oof!-"

The rest of his 'speech' was completely cut off as Clara suddenly wrapped her arms tight around him. It was a quick hug, but entirely heartfelt.

"Of course I'll be a part of your life," she told him. "We're friends. That's what friends do, isn't it?"


	3. 3) We All Have Secrets

_Prompt: Clara has (another) near-death experience._

_Genre: Hurt/Comfort_

_Rating: K+ (Because pain. And angst, and stuff.)_

_We All Have Secrets_

"One-and-two-and-three-and-four-and-five-and-six-and-seven-and-eight-and..."

The Doctor sucked in another shaky breath and continued to do compressions. His hands were interlaced, pushing against Clara's chest, just over her heart. As the seconds ticked on, the muscles in his wrists began to ache insufferably, and keeping a steady beat became harder and harder. That's why he was counting- it was keeping him focused. His voice was only a raspy whisper, however, laced with shards of anger and a steely cold fear that shot daggers into his soul.

He directed most of his anger at himself. Why, oh _why_, did he have to take Clara Oswald here? Being fully aware of the civil war that was afoot, why the _hell_ did he choose this planet? And as for the rest of his anger, why was it that every single time he came upon this intuitive, smart woman, the universe tried stripping her away from him?

His fears, meanwhile, were because of her. She was his friend. His muse. She'd brought him out of that lost time in his life, from the regrets of long-gone relationships and the mourning of Donna Noble. Her optimism was the light that poured into his darkness, letting him truly _see _the boundless, wonderful cosmos in front of him. But his muse wasn't breathing. She would have drowned if he hadn't dived into the lake to pull her out.

Only minutes earlier, it seemed, everything was in its proper place. They had just escaped from a military base in a particularly tension-filled area of the planet, and were running back to the TARDIS as fast as they could. Neither of them knew of the explosive charges left in the base by rivals in the civil war...

He could remember that moment clearly. They were sprinting across a narrow bridge, with no railing. A deep indigo lake sparkled below, and the weather conditions were dreadfully frigid. He remembered Clara's warm hand, clasped tight in his. The concrete bridge was slick from the spray of the waterfall at their side. They were maybe halfway across, when a wing of the base behind them exploded. Neither of them were expecting the powerful shock wave that resulted.

The most horrifying thing was watching her body bend in a completely unnatural way as the sheer force of the blast flung her off of the bridge.

His mind had called up images he'd hidden in the back of his memory, nightmares of days since past. A violent shuttle explosion, which had taken his first Clara away, and the icy cloud that his second Clara fell from, like an angel plummeting from heaven. _This_ Clara, however, had plummeted into the lake like a dead weight, unconscious.

Now only hope could save her.

Tears escaped down the side of his cheek without warning, as he continued his efforts. They burned him, even though inside he was already ice-cold. A little over three minutes had already passed, and she still wasn't breathing. How much longer could Clara's mind survive without oxygen?

(_Six minutes_, his subconscious whispered. _A human brain is able to survive approximately six minutes without oxygen, with permanent brain damage after four.)_

Heavily exhausted, he decided to go for his last option. He sucked in as large of a breath as he possibly could, placed his lips securely over hers, and gave her a rescue breath. In the corner of his eyes, he saw her chest rise. Hopeful, he lowered his ear to her face, yearning to hear something, _anything._

A moment passed in which the only perceptible sound was his two hearts pumping blood wildly through his veins. Everything else- the people shouting on the bridge above, the sound of plaster crackling in flames- was muffled.

Then, Clara began coughing. Instantly, a sense of relief washed over him. The weight of the guilt on his shoulders eased away. She snapped back into consciousness, and managed to roll on her side, where she coughed up the water that had been trapped in her airways. It hurt a lot to hear. It sounded like she might hurl up her toenails.

Woozy, Clara flopped on her back again. When she looked up, her eyes locked with his. He could only imagine what she saw- a man with sopping wet hair that had fallen flat over his forehead, tie and suit jacket nowhere to be seen, and the trails of tear drops across his cheeks. A part of him wished he could mask this vulnerability.

But as his friend rocketed up and wrapped her arms around him, he realized he didn't care about being vulnerable right now. Not around Clara.

"Not again," he gasped, holding her tight. "Never again..."

**~8~**

That evening, Clara tiptoed into the console room, bundled in a gigantic fuzzy blanket. The Doctor leaned against one of the pillars- still sans jacket and tie- fiddling with the insides of his sonic screwdriver. Being quiet enough not to disturb him, she walked up in front and leaned on the console. He paused his work to gaze up at her, with a small smile.

"Can't sleep?"

"Yeah," she admitted. "Too much on my mind. What about you?"

"I'm fine," he replied quickly. Clara simply sighed. She was aware he was reluctant about opening up too much, just like she'd been in the first few months she knew him, but the dark circles under his eyes suggested he was more exhausted from the day's ordeal than he wished to let on. This was why asking the Doctor _anything_ was hard at times; she had absolutely no idea how much he'd reveal on the matter.

"Doctor?" she asked, firmly deciding to press for an answer to the question that had plagued her for hours. "After you saved me, you kept saying, 'Not again.' What did you...?"

Seeing his pained reaction to this, she trailed off. Did she really need to know? She was well aware that the Doctor had others that traveled with him, before she came along. She wasn't the first, and she probably wouldn't be the last. And, if something terrible had happened to one of his traveling friends in the past... and maybe he couldn't save them...

"Never mind," Clara said, with a smile itching at the corner of her lips. "We all have secrets, don't we?"

Gently, she pushed herself to her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. An act the likes of this wasn't anything out of the ordinary. The past few weeks, there had been more hugging, handholding, and cheek kissing than she had ever experienced in her entire life. This time, however, her lips came exceedingly close to his, almost brushing the corner of his mouth.

She pulled back, then gave him that wide, bright smile that showed her dimples. Turning on her heels, she scampered off into the bowels of the TARDIS, her fuzzy blanket dragging on the floor after her. The Doctor's face flushed. Lightly, he touched the skin at the corner of his lips, which was still warm from Clara's touch.


	4. 4) The Favor, Part 1

**AN: I've made assumptions about the Maitland kids for the purpose of my main story, and those assumptions still stand here. First off, this is set an entire year beyond where we ever saw them in canon Who. (Also a year ahead of when we see them in my main story, in fact.) So right here, Angie is nearing 16, (and looks and acts young for her age), and Artie is 11. That's my head canon, at least.**

* * *

_Prompt: Clara trying to get the Doctor to babysit the kids_

_Genre: Friendship, Humor_

_Rating: K_

_The Favor, Part 1_

The Doctor should have guessed.

He seriously should have guessed that she wanted a favor the second she called, said hello, and proceeded to ask how his TARDIS repairs were going in that overly cheery voice of hers. It was _the voice_, he reckoned. Each time she called and began to chat in that tone, she called to ask him to do something for her.

Admittedly, this didn't happen very often, and when it did, it was something really little. An answer to a quiz question, maybe, or- as happened once- a request to be taken to the previous day to attend a missed birthday party. And it wasn't like he hadn't asked things of her on multiple occasions.

_(Clara, push that button and keep holding it until I say! Clara, there's a young boy over there who's crying. Run, Clara! Listen, Clara- I need you to repeat every word I say into this microphone in verbatim. Seriously. The existence of the universe depends on it.)_

But this time...

"I really don't think that's a good idea, Clara."

"Why not? It's just for three hours."

"Because the last time I was anywhere near your family and friends, I almost got everyone killed," he protested, tightening his grip on the TARDIS phone.

"Oh, stop it. You know that wasn't your fault. I just need someone to be there and make sure they don't burn the house down, or something."

He leaned back against the console, still holding the cellular to his ear, and kicked back his feet. "That's a wee bit presumptuous, isn't it?"

"Okay, so maybe I'm exaggerating a bit?" Clara thought out loud. "They're good kids and all, but the last time I tried leaving them for the evening without a sitter, they had the volume up way too high on one of their fighting games, and one of the neighbors called the police."

"Ah."

"Yeah, I'd rather that not happen again. I really don't fancy being called home during the middle of an interview. Especially not _this_ interview. If the headmaster approves, he said I'll get the job."

The Doctor sighed, now slouching against the console. Clara had been going on for weeks about this job opportunity, a position at Coal Hill School as an English teacher that recently opened up. She said it was the job she'd been waiting for ever since she left university. He'd smiled at the familiar name, and encouraged her to fight for it. He knew how important this was to her, but the thought of looking after two kids and keeping them safe- when he felt like he couldn't do the same for himself, most days- was daunting.

"Don't you have any good friends to ask?"

"You are that good friend. All my other 'friends'-" he could practically hear the air quotes in her statement- "are very unreliable. Just put on a movie, and they'll be engrossed the whole time. And there's some leftover pizza from last night still in the fridge, you can just reheat it. See? No hassle."

"Hold on- are you trying to suggest a nine hundred and five-year old Time Lord isn't capable of cooking on his own? I'll have you know I've taken culinary lessons from the brilliant Georges Auguste Escoffier himself," he said, over-pronouncing the French name on purpose.

He could almost sense Clara's eye roll in reply. "And are you really going to cook French cuisine for two picky teenagers?"

"Artie's eleven," he pointed out. "He's not a teenager yet."

"Whatever, close enough. Angie makes up for how much of a teenager he's not. Just do the pizza, it'll be easier for all parties involved, and your hearts won't be crushed when they don't like your cooking."

"I suppose I have no choice, then, do I?"

"Land the street down," Clara said, ignoring him. "And no taking them on any adventures, you hear me?"

The Doctor made a mock salute with his finger, smirking devilishly. "Received and understood, Captain Oswald."

There was a short silence from the other end. She was probably trying to come up with a snarky comeback.

"If you could come at six, that would be wonderful," she said finally, apparently giving up on the comeback that was likely still brewing in her mind. "You deserve the biggest thank you for this." Pause. _Long_ pause. "I'm sorry- now that I think about it, this is actually quite pushy of me. Just- just forget about it, okay? Maybe I can ask my dad. I bet he could pop over for-"

"No," he interrupted, sensing the sudden worry in her voice. "I'll do it. I don't mind. Don't stress about it, just focus on that interview."

"Oh, I could give you the biggest hug ever right now! See you here, I suppose?"

"Yeah. I'll be there."

She hung up on her end, leaving the Doctor with only his thoughts, his constant companion. And suddenly, he wondered what trouble he'd get himself into this time. But, it was just house sitting for a teenager and an eleven-year old- and making sure they didn't get into any trouble- for three hours. How hard could it possibly be?

**TO BE CONTINUED IN: THE FAVOR, PART 2**


	5. 5) The Favor, Part 2

_Prompt: Clara trying to get the Doctor to babysit the kids_

_Genre: Friendship, Humor_

_Rating: K_

_The Favor, Part 2_

Clara Oswald slung her red purse over her shoulder and slipped her feet into a pair of sandals that sat by the door.

"Angie? Artie? I'm leaving in ten minutes, and I want you both downstairs!"

Amused, she watched as the two trudged downstairs, Angie absorbed in some game on her phone, and Artie with his nose stuck in a book. Leave it to today's teens and preteens to figure out how to walk while multitasking and not trip. With a huff, the girl turned off her phone and shoved it in the pocket of her denim shorts.

"You don't have to keep getting us babysitters, Clara, I'm sixteen," she said, rolling her eyes.

Clara smirked, having a feeling they'd enjoy her next nugget of information. "I think you'll like who's coming."

"Is it your friend Sonja again?" Artie asked hopefully.

"Nope. It's the Doctor."

The two turned to each other rapidly, not bothering to hide their excitement now.

"_Yes!"_ they cheered simultaneously, and high-fived.

**~8~**

The Doctor leaned against the counter, peering at the reheat pizza circling endlessly in the microwave. Accounting for the model and age of this specific appliance, he set the timer for exactly one minute and seven seconds. Any longer, and the crusts would become soggy. Any less, and the cheesy center would be cold. Bored, he pulled at the skin below his eyes with the tips of his fingers. He stared holes into the reflective microwave door, seeing his reflection stare back. Out of all the demons, villains, and monsters he'd faced, this was the worst of them all: having to wait.

It would be easier if he could just take the kids somewhere, anywhere, where he could run them around at a breakneck speed and have them home before the clock struck eight, but Clara specifically told him _no adventures_. And it was so hard to say yes to that with the lifestyle he led, but since this was his best friend, this was a promise he intended to keep.

He just wished he didn't have to be constantly nattered upon by someone he was supposed to protect.

"This is the boringest movie ever," Angie complained, her body splayed on the couch and her head lolled back.

Artie briefly looked up from his book to comment on the matter. "Boringest isn't even a real word!"

"Shut up, Artie!" she said, and tossed a pillow at him, which he deftly avoided, and giggled. She turned around towards the Doctor. "But seriously? 2001: A Space Odyssey? That's like, ancient. Why can't you just _take _us to space?"

He pushed himself away from the counter by the microwave and leaned against the wall, trying to forget the horror of Angie calling a science fiction classic boring.

"Because I promised Clara I wouldn't, and I intend to keep that promise."

"Oh, come on! Just one trip! She'll never know."

"Well, she might not, you're right. But that'd be lying."

"What, and you're saying you've not lied before?" she scoffed, and turned back towards the movie. It appeared she wasn't going to press him more on the matter, however. Thank goodness.

Suddenly, he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Where was the microwave buzzer? If a minute and seven seconds hadn't passed yet, then this would hold the record for the longest minute and seven he'd ever experienced...

Quickly, he rushed back into the middle of the kitchen, and gawked at the appliance. The timer had paused at 29 seconds, and he couldn't even see the reheat dinner inside anymore. A burnt, acrid scent wafted into his nose, and instantly he knew. Smoke filled the entire space.

"Angie, get the fire extinguisher!" he hollered. "Run, run, run!"

He slipped his sonic screwdriver from his suit's breast pocket, and adjusted its setting. By the time he had shut the microwave completely off, the teen returned lugging the extinguisher, and with Artie in tow. She practically tossed it at him, obviously as aware as he was that now was no time for playing games.

"Cool, the microwave's on fire!" the boy enthused, and stood eagerly behind the Doctor as he yanked the pin from the trigger and threw the piece of metal to the floor.

"That's not something to be happy about," Angie told him pointedly as she picked it up.

"Remember when we caught that marshmallow on fire in there a year ago?"

_"Artie!"_

The Doctor held the fire extinguisher with one hand and prepared to open the small metal door with the other. "Both of you, stand back by the wall! If there's flames, I don't want you getting hurt."

"But what about you?"

"Oh, don't worry about me. A little fire's not gonna do any lasting damage."

He sucked in a hesitant breath, and then rapidly opened the microwave door. With a squeeze of the trigger, he sprayed white foam all over the bright flames that flickered from inside, and the blackened remains of their reheat pizza.

**~8~**

A few minutes later the three were all sitting in the living room, watching 2001: A Space Odyssey and munching on cold pizza, crackers, and bananas. The house still smelt like smoke. Angie stretched out on the sofa. The Doctor and Artie opted to sit on the floor, various microwave parts that he'd salvaged scattered on the carpet for no other reason than to tinker. The appliance was already destroyed; there wasn't anything he could do to fix it.

"Really? This is all that heats up everything?" Artie said, peering closely at some of the parts. "They're really small."

"That one there's called a magnetron," the Doctor explained, pointing out a specific tube-shaped piece in front of him. "It's what creates the microwaves that cook the food. _Well_, actually, it doesn't cook the food, it just makes the food's molecules excited, which then heats it up. Reheated by radiation!" He grinned, looking at him through the lenses of his glasses. "Fascinating, don't you think?"

Artie smiled, and picked up the part he was referring to. "Yeah!"

"Shhh, quiet! I'm trying to watch," Angie said, glued to the screen. The Doctor grinned even more. Perhaps this movie wasn't as boring as she thought it was after all.

In fact, he was just beginning to think this evening had become a success, when the power went out. The television switched off abruptly and the entire house went dark.

_Now what?_

**~8~**

Clara unlocked the front door, frowning at how dark it was on this side of the neighborhood. There must have been a power outage. Hopefully, the Doctor and the kids fared okay...

As she entered the house, she knew immediately something was wrong. Something _had_ to be wrong. It was too quiet. Angie and Artie were usually still up at this hour. Her gut twisted suddenly, deep fears pooling up. What if the Doctor had ignored her request and taken them to some other planet anyways? What if they hadn't returned yet, or he took a wrong turn and they wouldn't return for years? What if they were _dead?_

Trying to push down her suddenly morbid thoughts, she frantically stormed through the house, looking through every room. It was only when she neared the backyard door that she saw that familiar flash of blue. Her eyes narrowed. He'd gone and ignored her after all, then.

When she stepped inside the TARDIS, she saw Angie and Artie, perfectly safe and peering at some controls, whilst the Doctor explained how they worked. Her entrance quickly stalled their conversation. Clara told the two of them to put themselves to bed, leaving only her and the Doctor. It was time she had a little chat.

"You have a lot to explain to me," she said matter-of-factly, opting to not raise her voice. "Where were you?"

"I didn't take them anywhere," the Doctor replied. "Just showed them around inside, and let them mess with the controls. Harmless. You see," he said, crossing around the console towards her, "I didn't have many options left. The power went out in the area. And with two, two and a half hours to spare, I figured, why not?"

Clara rubbed her lips together as she mulled this over, tasting the strawberry chap stick she'd put on over her lipstick because the corners of her mouth were dry. Hearing his explanation, she now understood. He probably had more fun showing them around his prized ship than he would have watching a movie, anyways. There was no need to make a big fuss over it, it seemed.

He pulled the glasses from where they perched on his nose and stuffed them in his trouser pocket, a guilty look on his face. "Oh, and by the way... I might have destroyed your microwave. I wanted to replace it with an identical model while you were gone, but..."

It took a second, but she soon realized why. "But you didn't, because you knew you'd either have to take them with you, or you'd have to leave them here alone." A wide smile crossed her lips, a squeal of happiness threatening to burst from her. "Thank you very, _very_ much. I owe you big time, Doctor!"

"Oh, this? This is nothing," he teased.

"And if you want some good news... I got the job!"

As suddenly as she said it, he ran to hug her, and to her surprise, picked her completely off of her feet with a joyous laugh. "Never doubted it once, Clara Oswald!" he enthused. "Who else would have come close to the sheer brilliance of you? Now, to celebrate, how about we go get that microwave?"

Clara nodded, and watched with a grin as he sped back to the console to operate the TARDIS deep into the universe, just like always.


End file.
